


Cemetary

by memefair



Series: Canon Divergent: Nanamicentric [10]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Human Nanami Chiaki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memefair/pseuds/memefair
Summary: Hope's Peak involves Chiaki in a prestigious project.





	Cemetary

The air in the room was stale, the walls and floors as sterile as that of a hospital.

They’d led her into the area in complete darkness, a blindfold wrapped around her eyes to obscure her vision. As if that wasn’t concerning enough, she was then sat in front of a monitor, a single television, game console (A Switch, she noted immediately) and controller left for her to fiddle with.

Those were the only things in the room, aside from her and the man in the lab coat who left her after a few minutes of explanation.

_ Where am I? Why am I here? _

They were conducting some sort of test, they’d explained to her. It was something to do with “talent”, the concept by which she’d been invited to this school in the first place. It was never something she’d put much stock into before, but “talent” was the metric by which everyone at Hope’s Peak lived.

A disembodied voice spoke, a crinkle of static before the loudspeaker began to repeat the instructions she’d been given.

Apparently, they didn’t have very high expectations for her ability to follow directions. Scientists were like that, she was beginning to discover.

“Your opponent will connect to your console in just a second.”

Chiaki sat back, irritation etched onto her face, cheeks puffed out.

_ Why all the secrecy if they just brought me here to play games? Jeez… _  
  


* * *

 

“Your opponent will connect to your console in just a second.”

The man spoke. Heart rate: About 120 beats per minute, slightly above average. There was a slight hitch in his voice that suggested excitement.

A woman in a long white coat observed nearby, eyes concealed by her glasses. The experiment noted the way her hair fell in her face, the slight twitch of her eye that indicated anxiety, the subtle scent of body odor and alcohol radiating off of her, even from ten feet away.

It picked up the controller.

* * *

 

Chiaki waited.

Her opponent was… slow. As if they were just learning how to play the game.  _ It’s Pong,  _ she thought irritably.  _ What’s not to understand about Pong?  _ It was as if the other person didn’t understand the objective, had no drive to win, was only there to learn.

They gradually got better, but Chiaki still won every single match with ease. Her eyes darted across the screen, following even the quickest movements, hands interlocked with the controller as if they were one. Controls were simple; she just had to move the control stick up and down. It was an old game, after all. A classic.

Next was Mario Kart.

This time, after about five matches, she began to lose on occasion.

Her opponent got… lucky. They’d be in fifth place, and then they’d get the item they needed to soar past her just in time. Her irritation grew, but she kept it in place.

This whole process was intriguing. They seemed to be testing her talent, but against who?

A bot, perhaps? That made the most sense, with the way the “bot” seemed to be interacting with her. There was no personality there; just empty space, no motivation at all. If they won, if they played at all, it was because they knew nothing else in that moment.

Super Smash Brothers. Goldeneye 007. Mortal Kombat. Street Fighter.

They went through a variety of one-on-one matches, with the NPC on the other end growing stronger each time… but never able to beat her definitively. They’d win one match, and then she’d win the next three as she learned their patterns, came up with counter attacks, matched her pace to theirs.

The only game they were able to beat her in time and time again was Mario Party.  _ They must have hacked this bot to be incredibly lucky,  _ Chiaki observed. She’d win the skill portion of the game, but when it came to luck, her opponent always had the upper hand.

* * *

 

The woman in the coat discussed something quietly with the man. Their faces were neutral, voices low, but the experiment could hear them anyway.

“Subject 006 is having trouble keeping up with the Ultimate Gamer.”

Subject 006… It heard that phrase frequently. It thought nothing of it.

It thought little of anything.

A door opened. Another man-- no, a teenage boy, roughly age sixteen or seventeen, strode in, his hair a mess, his expression severe.

“He’s not even trying,” the boy accused. “You idiots spent so long looking at your charts you didn’t take a look at the goddamn meat puppet you created.”

The woman huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Matsuda--”

The dark-haired boy took several steps closer. The experiment observed his footwear. Open toe, not at all appropriate for a laboratory environment.

There was a shock of pain as the boy grabbed it by the hair and yanked it back. It did not flinch, or even stir from its position. It simply closed its eyes.

“He’s practically drooling. A _ vegetable _ .”

The boy (Matsuda?) released his grip, and slapped the experiment on the back of the head. It still did not respond, not speaking a word in edgewise.

The pain in its head grew intense. The surgery had only been finished two weeks ago. It was still healing. It knew that much, thanks to the knowledge that had been imparted in those two weeks, the learning it had been doing.

“Individuality isn’t necessary,” the woman in the white coat argued. “Personality would only get in the way! If it develops thoughts and feelings of its own--”

“Because  _ god forbid _ he’s able to accomplish anything on his own,” Matsuda retorted, rolling his eyes. “At this rate, you’ll have to have a handler there to assure he eats and bathes. He’ll waste away within a few weeks. He might be an experiment, but he’s still human.” He gestured at the TV screen, where their opponent, Nanami Chiaki, was waiting for the next match to start. “Look at this. This is all the evidence you need. He doesn’t win, because he  _ doesn’t fucking care _ .”

* * *

 

Chiaki’s controller rested in her lap.

They were taking a while to contact her. She wondered if they were done testing her.  _ Well, I guess I’ll find out.  _ She was content to sit there, now with her 3DS out, playing Dragon Quest VII for probably the fifth time. It was quiet here, which she preferred to the chaos of the outside world.

She let out a sigh. Maybe Hope’s Peak was more trouble than it was worth…

* * *

 

The experiment was still listening to them converse.

“...you’re suggesting we start over? We’d need to find a new subject,” the woman stated reproachfully. “And we’ll need to dispose of this one.”

Finally, the man who’d been observing this whole time spoke. His voice was level, calm, unlike the woman and the boy, who both showed varying degrees of irritation.

“We’ve done it before. We can do it again.”

He pulled a file out. There was the rifling of paper as he searched and then withdrew a particularly folder. The experiment did not turn, or even glance at the three behind it. It was simply waiting for its next orders.

“...Hinata Hajime,” Matsuda read.

* * *

 

At least Chiaki didn’t have to go home to her parents.

And once school started, she was going to live on campus full time, with her own dorm… she could have her own life. She could make new friends… maybe.

* * *

 

 “He’s a Reserve Course member… The hell is that?”

“We’ve created a new division of the school,” the man explained, “for those without talent. They’ll have to pay exorbitant fees, of course… but we could use the funding. And instead of having to hunt for candidates, we’ll be bringing them to us.”

The woman exhaled. “You’ve certainly thought this through…”

“All that remains is how to dispose of the body.”

* * *

 

The drive back to her house was… unceremonious. Nobody bothered to explain what had happened back there, only that she was still being tested by the school to assure that she was right for the position. The man who drove her remained cool, calm, and collected.

When she arrived, her mother gave her the cold shoulder.

Typical.

_ Just another few months of this. Then… I can be an Ultimate, for real. I can  _ be _ somebody. _

* * *

 

“...he’s so certain this kid will even agree to the project,” Inoue Mari complained, leaning back in her chair. “How can he know? You’d have to be nuts to agree to this… this bullshit. We’ve had a hard enough time finding candidates already!”

Matsuda didn’t respond for a moment. He was flipping through his latest manga, eyes scanning the pages, permanent scowl etched onto his face.

“Why did  _ you _ agree, then?” he asked lazily. “You must have had a reason.”

Inoue thought for a moment. “...I wanted to be part of something bigger.”

“There you go.” Matsuda flipped to the next page.

“But that’s different than getting fucking  _ brain surgery _ !” she sputtered.

* * *

 

_ Congratulations! You have been accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy as a member of the Reserve Course! _

_ Congratulations! You have been accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy as a member of the Reserve Course! _

_ Congratulations! You have been accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy as a member of the Reserve Course! _

He kept scanning it, over and over again, as if the dream might fade and he’d wake up in a cold sweat like he often did the past few weeks while awaiting the letter that spelled his fate for the next couple of years.

_ This is real. This is really, really real. _

He realized he was clenching his hands, fingers crinkling up the paper. Slowly, he exhaled, though the excitement did not diminish.

_ I passed. _

From downstairs, he heard his mother call, “Hajime! Dinner’s ready!”

He rose, diligent son to the end, though he still held onto the letter. This was going to be a difficult conversation… His parents wouldn’t be able to afford this on their usual salary. They’d been supportive of his dreams so far, but he knew part of them hoped he would be rejected, and have to settle on a regular school.

* * *

 

Elsewhere, newspapers reported on a bloated body being discovered floating in the Kanda River.

The body was identified as Ikeda Noburu, a high school student who’d gone missing several months earlier. Tabloids speculated that he’d been driven to suicide by the high pressure put on him by his prestigious school.

The man who did the autopsy was paid over 6 million yen to keep quiet about his discoveries.

**Author's Note:**

> woops i accidentally a whole new fic i dont know if i'll ever finish :)


End file.
